Afterlife - Lawlight

Blinding Light

So this is what dying feels like.

Failure, bitter and acre like the blood in his mouth.
Light slowly felt the rush of life flowing away from the holes in his chest; and he pretended to think there wasn't a God above, who could have seen him so miserable, as humanity was slipping from his hands.
There was no way to back down.
God had fallen, God had fallen on a pathetic staircase in such a forgotten and decadent place.
The sun was setting, a sad yet uncounscious reminder of his failure.
There still was a spark glowing in his eyes, a desperate, thin dash of gold that had kept shining, hoping for salvation, perhaps.
But he couldn't be saved. Not after all those years. Not after all the people he left behind, who could have helped him at a different time.
But Light had always thought about his life as a game, in which he had the right to move the pawns; never he would have thought of a defeat so close to the beginning yet still after so long. Everything was going according to plan, every single detail calculated.
If somebody wants to rise, somebody else has to fall. And they all fell so easily, even the most powerful. Even L.
Light chuckled as the thought glanced through his mind.
In those last, unglorious moments, he had found himself thinking about L. What a pathetic display for the God above, who had started to become impatient to see death conquer the young man's eyes.
Still, they kept shining.
Hazel and gold, red veins floating in white, nothing pure anymore.
And even when his body started to feel numb, even then, that spark kept on shining.
Light's chest ached, but he no longer felt the urge to whine or scream. Overall, there was no reason for him to express his pain out loud.
Who could've cared? He was alone. He had chosen to be alone.
As loose raven feathers started falling from above, Light's vision gradually faded into white, and he felt peacefully clean for the first time in years.
"In their last moments, people show who they truly are." - this is what he had always heard. Every now and then, a friend, a relative, a classmate, would have come up with this sentence, maybe just to show off in front of others. Light would have just rolled his eyes, annoyed by seeing such cheap wisdom used as a conversation topic by fake intellectuals.
But maybe, they weren't completely wrong.
Light Yagami was a coward. And as a coward he had to die, weak admist a world too big for him alone to rule, desperately trying to run away from what he had done, his last thoughts to who abused his trust and let himself be fooled at the same time. How contradictory, how fascinating the human mind is.
Vivid, distorted reflections in the corner of his eyes glimmered, colorful. He tried to find a resemblance between the warm ghosting shadows and the people he knew. There wasn't an exact reason for him to think in such way; maybe he had started to feel a sense of regret in regards of those he had let down so many times. Misa, always behind him, dependent and lonely in her gold tinted dream. Kiyomi, whose corpse had never even been found, just some candid fabric loose among the ashes. Teru, probably still on the ground, rotting in a pool of his own blood.
They were weak. But at least they weren't cowards.
And they were probably laughing at him, from behind his eyes.
Those eyes that were still human, even after all that time; still hazel, still shining, red was only seen until that day.
Yes, the three were reckless, what a pitiful life they had chosen to live. And Light really thought he could have survived.
Foolish Light, always at the top, always better than everyone else; but Death couldn't care less if your grades are high or low, gold doesn't run in your bloodstream.
His expectations were, surely, higher. And as the curtain fell on that pathetic show, Light started to feel shivers down his cracked spine.
His head tilted upwards, eyes gazing at the sky as orange light filtred through iron and glass.
How could a God ever wish for salvation to the sky?
Slowly, the colors faded away, and Light was left in white, his eyelids falling gently as the room began to vanish.
The only still visible thing in his sight was a tall, blue figure whose shape resembled the one of a man.
And that was what made Light's eyes snap open.
L.
He was there. Standing right in front of him.
The passing years didn't seem to touch him the slighest; he was the same man who had died in his arms five years before.
And there had never been a day since L's death that passed without Light finding himself thinking about him, about them.
He felt something, like pressure, against his wrist. Light smiled reluctantly, eyes fixed to the ground. He had forgotten how it felt.
Nothing but faith was bounding his wrist, but he still sensed a light stress on the thin skin, and the bitter remembrance of those days spent without speaking a lie, mind blank, too close to someone so dangerous and sly, flew through his brain.
Whenever he went, L was always behind him, waiting for him to fall. People do, in fact, never change, as even then, in death, the same situation was repeating.
L slowly raised his hand in front of himself. It seemed so real, vivid, tangible.
It was a warm sign of invitation, quite unusual of him. But there was no reason to question such kindness, and Light, almost instinctively, held L's hand, and he felt it cold and strong as a thumb gently stroked his palm.
He was clinging to him. Something in that situation was almost ironic, with the two of them reunited again under a different light, as the cause of the other's death was staring hopeless at who had been there before him, wondering if he'd ever missed him in the cruel oblivion.
Light stood in front of the taller man, suddenly feeling anxious. He was trusting a vision, the mirage of his biggest regret, who still hadn't spoken a single word since his appearence.
L's presence was making him feel too many emotions at once, from an ache in his stomach, a sense of guilt, to a comforting embrace of the mind he hadn't felt in a long time. It reminded him of when he was just a boy, just Light and nothing more, of when his mother stroked his hair after kissing him goodnight, her eyes smiling with pride at the child she loved so much.
The eyes. He didn't have the courage to look at L in the eyes.
Light felt the touch of the same hand who helped him to stand under his chin, and his head was delicately moved to make him face the man he had cursed for so long, now his only remaining hope, nothings else to hold on to but him.
L's eyes were still the same. Deep, coal and watery, a side effect of all those hours spent glaring at a screen.
They were still the same eyes he looked right into as they began to lose their spark, the same eyes he had saw closing for the last time were now fixed on his, wide open.
And seeing those eyes once more was both a miracle and a curse.
At least, Light didn't have to prove himself of anything in front of them anymore.
If those eyes were meant to never open again, then they could have stood his sight; it would have been like seeing an execution, for who wanted Kira to fall more than anyone else.
L's hand was still on Light's chin. He squinted his eyes as he gently brushed a finger on the young man's skin, right under his mouth, which had coughed up blood not much time before.
As much as Light wanted to push the hand away and ask the vision some questions, he couldn't help but enjoy the peaceful sense of reality he felt.
Every single touch was intensified as the numbness possessing him left, and he reached the peak of that feeling as he saw L looking at his own hand, only to realise it had been stained with the blood that rushed from Light's mouth.
He took a moment to stare at the red fingers, before breaking the utopic silence with a cold, echoing voice.
<You really let yourself go, didn't you, Light?>
The brunet almost jumped at the familiar sound. It wasn't exactly like waking up, but similar to switching from a dream to another in the course of a single night.
He clenched his fists as the words reached his ears, situation so common during those blank minded days, with the only difference, now, that he no longer had to wear the handcuffs. He had already proved his guilt, there was no reason to investigate further.
The case was going to be archived, the remaining members of the Task Force would have slept at night, maybe shaken by nightmares, in which Kira would have been confined. No longer real.
Only a ghost above the earth, and people would have forgotten about him the arch of some months, only some loose believers probably still praying someone who was no longer with them.
Yes, death was what made him at the same time the closest and the farthest from a God he would have ever been.
And God met again his sacrifice, only to be laughed at by him.
Before speaking, Light closed his eyes for a moment, surrounded by an absolute, unnatural silence.
He moved a step forth, closer to L, trying to define if the person he was talking to was real or just an allucination, his hopes crashed beyond the limit as he realized he would have been relieved in both cases.
Was he really that desperate?
<Did you forget the promise I made five years ago?>
Light's voice sounded rough and flushed in the candid nothingness.
L's eyes were still on his hand. Maybe he didn't know about the current situation, maybe his memories were still clung around a previous ring; he stared at the blood, deeply, and the generated effect was similar to a post-mortem examination by a coroner.
It must have been real. It looked real.
And of all the things Light's eyes had seen, the strangest were usually the truth, while humanity seemed so fragile and fake, like jewels made of glass.
<I didn't.> replied L, looking above, finally. <But you took your time. I wouldn't consider it a kept promise.>
Light smirked, and his teeth made a disgusting mushy sound as the blood moved inside his mouth.
As long as we're chained together, we'll die together.
<Ryuzaki,> oh, how many years without saying a word can pass. It almost felt strange from his voice, now broken and shaking.
<This is not the first time I'm experimenting death. Don't think that these eyes of mine have always shone as bright as in my last moments. I still remember that day, when, after they saw yours closing, my eyes have stopped watering for a while. I had started to find it impossible to cry, even at command, and my brain burned down too many cells trying to find an explanation to the ache.>
Light's voice interrupted its speech to let the lungs take a break between the words, a breath that never rushed in.
But he didn't have the chance to finish, interrupted by that same familiar yet forgotten, despised yet calming, voice, which only spoke one word before casting the silence once more.
<Pathetic.>
Light's eyes snapped open. The dreamlike peace of the reunion was broken by the abrupt sound.
<You don't sound like yourself. I thought that, in such place and shape, you would have finally let Light speaking. So please, stop pretending for once, I don't think it will matter anyway.>
It was the first time Light heard L saying please. At least, in a sincere way.
<And don't talk about promises. You surely took your time to follow me.> finished L, his eyes closed. At least, this gave Light enough courage to look at the other man's face, still trying to find a sign of the passing time on the moon-like pale skin.
That image. L, face frowning as offences were running from his mouth, black hair strokes covering his eyelids. Everything was exactly like he remembered.
Light smiled.
For a second, he felt the weight of those five years leaving his body, shaking it in a gentle confusion.
Everything felt familiar and cold. He still had to choose between considering it a good or a bad situation. From one side, he knew L wasn't stupid. Seeing him again after what he'd done to him would have only caused pain to both, making one spit blood and lies while the other would have either laughed or shook his head in dismiss.
But on the other side, Light finally had to admit to himself that he had longed for that situation to happen for years. Yes, he missed him.
He missed the games, he missed proving himself to another person, somebody with his same mind.
Dependant, addicted, for so long without relief, without the first person he was actually interested in.
God, it sounded so stupid.
But don't humans love what's usual and certain?
Yes, L was all Light could cling to. And he felt sick thinking like that. He reminded himself of Misa, who he'd judged foolish and dumb until the moment of his death.
<I know what I said,> began Light, gradually gaining faith in his words as he spoke, <and I kept the promise I made. This is the day Kira died, but not the Light you knew.>
Flashing light, bright red, total absence of sound, insecure arms around a body part of him wanted to see buried and another other wanted to hold.
A perfect picture of the moment Light died for the first time.
The day he had chosen we would have stopped being so reckless, getting too close to others.
<Who lived under the name of Kira and who lived under the name of Light, both died today.> there was a touch of sorrow in L's voice. <You know it better than me. Don't you want to leave peacefully, at least?>
Light moved closer to L, and firmly grasped his shoulders, fingers closing around white fabric that still felt so real.
<I left the way I could.> he started to feel something moving in his eyes. <My body, my mind have both changed during these years. I had grown, I was no longer the Light you've slept next to during the living hell we called "case". But now, I feel like I'm that person again. And I think it's your presence that makes me think so. I'm not used to ignorance, and don't think that I wouldn't have prefered a common death. I don't even know where we are, but I'm sure it's neither heaven or hell.> he decided to not say why he was so certain about that thought.
L took his time to metabolise the words.
<Such emotions, they feel strange from your mouth, Light. Even if I'm not sure I can still call you like this. So, you're saying that Kira and Light only shared a physical form, right? And that, after my death, Light was put in confinement in a forgotten region of your brain, while Kira got in control.>
Light nodded.
<You truly are pathetic. Pathetic, but interesting. And I must admit, that I have missed this.>
<Missed what?>
<Investigating.>
Light let go of L's shoulders, letting his hands run on the cotton sleeves before closing around the man's wrists.
<I'm afraid the case has to be archived at this point.> he whispered, embaressed of his own cracking voice.
<Our ideas over the judgmental system are different. I think there's still a lot to discover, perhaps we could re-open the case. Would you still follow me?>
Something in L's voice was different. Maybe he was just hallucinating, a side effect of death.
But who cared anymore?
And felt himself being held into the coldest and desperate embrace he'd ever witnessed.
He felt the familiar hands on his back, keeping him still while the two chests touched, and one stained the other red, once more.
L spoke with his chin on Light's shoulder, and it was clear he was trying to mantain a soft tone. Maybe he had noticed the shivers Light felt down his spine.
<This doesn't change the fact that I-->
<Don't say it. You'll only embarass yourself.>
L smiled gently, agreeing.
And as the white room began to fade into darkness, Light noticed that the holes in his chest didn't hurt anymore.

When the two policemen found the corpse a hour later, they were almost brought to tears as they saw Light resting with a peaceful expression on his face.

A/N
Well, looks like Lawlight Week is done. This is my first work to be written entirely in english, so I apologize for any mistakes.
I hope the person I wrote this for likes it.
~Fanny